


Bleeding In and Out of You

by lightsinthedistance



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Smut, One Shot, Psychological Trauma, Third Person POV, reference to abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28095051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsinthedistance/pseuds/lightsinthedistance
Summary: “He always left her there alone. Naked and cold and feeling used. But she never stopped him. She would let him hurt her again and again and again. Until she couldn’t bear it anymore, and perhaps, beyond that.”-“‘One more chance, sweetheart,’ he murmured, pleading. ‘Please.’”-Reader endures her slowly-crumbling relationship with Poe.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Original Character(s), Poe Dameron/Original Female Character(s), Poe Dameron/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Bleeding In and Out of You

She saw the world in color.

Bright red hibiscus.

Fiery golden sunsets.

Azure blue oceans.

But most fascinatingly, in people. Hues of the rainbow smeared in and out of everyone’s atmosphere, bleeding from their demeanor.

In Leia, white for her hope, violet for her wisdom. In her own parents, pink for love, brown for reliability. In many of her colleagues, red for strength.

She saw it in her pilot, too. Poe’s capture had sent her into a downward spiral. Not on the outside; she still did her job, performed her duties. But she moved through the world with a new anxiety, a new outlook.

His return had been euphoric, but he had come back a completely different man.

He was distant. He barely talked to her.No longer did they share long nights under covers, whispering to each other, caressing each other. No longer did they fall asleep at 3 AM after talking for hours, limbs intertwined. No longer did they even share the same bed.

He showed up to her for only one thing.

On odd nights, he’d knock on her door, push her back in the room. His hands would pull at her clothes, desperation in his touch, his lips locked to her neck.

But not her lips. Never her lips. And she missed his taste.

He’d take her, his hands on her wrists, or in her hair, and that was the only time he let down his walls. He’d murmur sweet things to her as he thrusted, hold her in the way she desired, let her feel him to the fullest.

But he always left. Cleaned himself up, mumbled something about unfinished work, and abandoned her there. Naked and cold and feeling used. Reminded of a dark past. And then, she would cry. Silently and softly, small helpless tears. Not even enough capacity for the conviction to get the smallest sobs out.

But she never stopped him. She knew that she would let him hurt her again and again and again. Until she couldn’t bear it anymore, and perhaps, beyond that.

Before, Poe had been all fire.

Red for his passion, zeal, and energy. The way he focused on a goal and chased it with a determination that made great admiration for him blossom in her.

Yellow for his joy and cheerfulness. Always the one who could see the bright side, who lifted everyone up after a loss, even if he himself felt like he was drowning. This was the Poe who’d come home after long missions and still expend the rest of his energy to help her de-stress.

Orange for his enthusiasm, ambition, and who he was. The color of Poe himself. His flight suit, his X-Wing, his droid, who he loved so dearly. Also the hue of his energy that he gave off. The color of his exhilaration that he experienced in everyday life. The color of the all the emotions that he felt like no other.

And then everything had faded to coldness.

Green. The color of change, but also it’s polar opposite. Stagnation. Poe had always been dynamic, excited by everything, passionate about the world around him. But his change had led him to lead his life with a numbness. Stoic and emotionless and distant. His aura of life had begun to fade out.

Blue for his sadness and melancholia. The nights that she never saw, but knew occurred. Nights where he woke from nightmares and softly cried, surrounded by the presence of his empty room. Nights where he simply stared out the window for hours, at the stars, looking at their fiery beacons with resignation. And with the state he was in, perhaps nights where he wished that he were dead.

And then, violet. The color of superiority. Poe had been the Commander who treated everyone as his equal. Who never talked down to people, who never showed any sort of superiority complex. He was the Commander who pulled disobedient recruits aside and found out what was going on instead of chewing them out. That had all changed. He’d become not only distant with her, but with those all around him. His relationship with his squadron as well as lower-level colleagues began to suffer. His softness was turning to something terrifyingly hard.

And that night, when he showed up at her quarters, his lips finding her neck, she pushed him away, her gaze dropping to the ground.

“I can’t do this anymore,” she whispered. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to.

“Do what?” His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoke in hours.

She glanced at him, and with one look, she knew that he was feigning ignorance. And that made something inside her go up in flames, made her want to punch something. He was toying with her emotions, knowing full well that he was hurting her.

“You know what you’re doing,” she said forcefully. Tears began to spill over as she stared at this broken man before her. The tension that had been building between themfor weeks finally snapped. Her fists were clenched, her teeth gritted. “You come here, you fuck me, and you leave. Do you have any idea how used that makes me feel?”

She began to pace the room, her hands pulling at her hair, agonizing past memories with other men flashing through her mind. Her volume began to increase, her voice spiraling out of control. His face was blank, as if he couldn’t care less, and all that did was feed into her burning hatred.

Part of her wanted to throw things, scream out every emotion she was feeling at him. The other part wanted to throw herself into his arms and beg for him to love her, to cure the very pain that he was causing.

“Do you know how much that hurts me? How much it hurts to be treated like this? Like something you can use and then discard? Because it feels like that’s all I’ve been my entire fucking life. By _everyone_ except a select few.”

She walked up to him, tearfully reaching a shaking hand up and tenderly caressing the side of his face, her voice falling to a whisper. His face was still expressionless, but something in his eyes ran deep. “And you used to be one of those select few…”

They stared each other down, waiting for the other to say something, millions of words unsaid begging to come out. But it was silent. There was nothing.

And all he did was leave.

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

Once he was gone, she collapsed to the ground, finally finding a place deep inside her that would bring out the ugly tears. It all dredged up past feelings of violation and worthlessness, whether it be by family or past lovers.

Poe had been the first who made her feel like she was worth something. Who made her feel loved, like she  _deserved_ to be loved.

He was also the one who had taught her how to love herself.

It felt like everything was falling apart. Before his capture, they’d had a future in the works. Talk of tying the knot once the war was over, a solid list of planets that they’d agreed on potentially settling on. And then, it was all gone.

It began to feel like even all the coldness was leaving. Like the colors were simply losing saturation till they all turned to gray. And then nothingness.

She pulled herself up to her dresser, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

_You’re the problem_ , she wanted to tell herself.

In past hard times, when Poe had closed himself off to everyone, he’d always made an exception for her. Except for this time.

When he’d returned, she’d spent hours chasing him down, trying to get him to talk to her, all unsuccessful. But maybe…maybe if she’d tried harder, if she’d been more understanding, if she’d been a better listener…

She shook her head, as if trying to coax the thoughts out of her brain. But she knew that they were never going anywhere.

..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::.. ..::::..

It was two nights later when she heard a knock on her door. He was standing there, running a hand through his disheveled hair.

“Can I come in?” he asked softly.

She nodded silently, stepping aside. His hands were on her the moment the door was closed, but in a different way. Not in a manner of frenzied lustfulness. This was gentle, soft, and warm. He moved forward, almost hesitantly. His eyes searched hers, looking for any sign that she was not okay with it. There were none.

Despite her previous outburst, she was still yearning for the old him back.

And he moved forward, pressing his lips to hers in one sweet kiss. They stared at each other a moment before he went back in, his arms encircling her waist, till she was flush against him. She went without resistance, feeling his warmth against her, her hands in his hair.

“One more chance, sweetheart,” he murmured, pleading. “Please.”

She closed her eyes, nodding slightly. “One.”

He led her to the bed, his touch sincere and firm. It already felt different. He was not intending to bend her over something and roughly take her this time.

He was going to handle her gently and tenderly, caressing her, holding her, in a way other lovers had always failed to do. In a way that only he could.

It was one orgasm later for her that he climbed on top, sinking himself into her. She moaned. The position was not ideal for her pleasure, but she didn’t care. It was all skin on skin, lips to each others’, moans passed back and forth. Evocative waves of past experience and pleasure rolled around the room, consuming the both of them.

She held onto him like her life depended on it, and unknown to the other, they were both on the verge of tears. There was pure emotion ripping through them, more potent than ever after the constant numbness that they’d fallen victim to. It was raw and uncontrollable and overwhelming. He murmured things to her: that she was beautiful, that he loved her.

When he finished, he held her tightly, his arms wrapped around her, pressing lazy kisses to her forehead and cheek every once in a while.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For everything.”

She gazed at him, her eyes fixating on his features, cherishing the memory.

“I’m worried about you.” She gently ran her hand over his cheek, planting an open-mouthed kiss to his jawbone. “Don’t block me out.”

“I won’t. Not anymore.” His eyelids fluttered with tiredness as he stroked her hair. “I promise.”

She settled back down onto his chest, her breath coming softly. And she was content.

Back in his arms. Back in his presence. Back in who he’d always been.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This one has a touch more of poeticism than my other works, with the whole colors thing. I’m aware that the concept has been done to death in music (Taylor, Lana, Halsey etc etc etc), but honestly, didn’t really realize that till after.
> 
> This was not one of those glorious moments that every writer has every once in a while where your first draft is nearly perfect. I revised and revised and revised…
> 
> Let me know what you think in a comment!


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